DAZ76

December 22, 2008

Thinspo 2

It seems my first pro ana (pro anorexia)  thinspirational piece was a hit so I would like to follow up with some thoughts and then I want to discuss the effects of TV on diet.

First off I am not pro anorexia, I am simply trying to not be fat by any means necessary, except exercise or to stop drinking beer. I mean, I walk around a lot, I live on the 3rd floor and I never sit down if I don’t have to. I am standing at the kitchen bar as I write this. So I wanted to add never sit down to my list of techniques to stay thin.

Now here’s where I’m going to come really hard with the seriousness about what will occur over the next week or so.  Yes I’m talking about the holidays. Not the cool ones like Kwanzaa or  Hanukkah. No, I’m talking about mind numbingly stupid Christmas. First off there is no god and Jesus never existed. Sorry, but it’s true. I’m not here to talk religion though, I’m here to talk weight loss, but knowing the whole premise of the thing is ridiculous to begin with might help in resisting the many and varied temptations that the season brings.

Remember, food is our enemy and should never be considered comforting. If you take some sort of “comfort” in food you’re probably already fucked and I doubt I can help you. Food exists for only two reasons. 1st so that we don’t die and 2nd to make us fat. So it’s basically a razor’s edge- a balance between life and chubbiness. I choose life begrudgingly in this case because I am trying to be thin and all my heartbreak has worn off and I’m back to simply deciding whimsically who I will hook it up with at any given moment. Without the luxury of heartbreak, dieting becomes that much more difficult.

So over the next week all the food freaks are going to start plying you with all kinds of seemingly delectable treats. But remember that the people who are pushing the food on you want you to be fat, because it will make them feel better for not looking good in the club anymore. They want you to suffer the consequences of over indulging- funny looks at Beauty Bar and no tight pants. I swear if I couldn’t wear my tight pants in the disco I’d be fucking outraged! Keep that in mind.

Back to this notion of comfort food. What’s so comfortable about indigestion and bloating? Collective belching and farting? Yuck, count me out. I say indulge your rebellious side by not going along with the gastronomic clo-fo and just sit back and enjoy how infuriating it is to all your relatives that you have chosen instead to be thin over gassy. They will be so pissed and hopefully that will provide you with even more thinspo. Nothing more satisfying than quietly annoying friends and family with your slim silhouette.

Lastly re. the holidays I would like to address the concept that it’s normal or OK to overindulge just because it’s Christmas. No, it’s not. Again that’s just corporate propaganda so you will buy more boxed stuffing  and other useless shit at the discount store. Overindulgence is always just that, it’s obnoxious and gluttonous so just don’t do it. Plus, you’ll get fat and that is what we are not talking about doing here.

Lastly I want to talk about TV. I firmly believe that watching TV greatly contributes to not only mental decay, but weight gain. The only time I ever want a BBQ Chick’n Popper Crispy Dunker or whatever is when the TV is on. It’s designed to keep you craving gross highly fattening junk food and you don’t have to look far to see the amazing effects it has on the American population. I just saw two really interesting studies published in the last few weeks. One claimed that less young people are watching TV. I believe it because the internet and going out  is way better! The other claimed that unhappy people watch more TV. I believe that too because it’s mostly so dark and boring. I put my TV away (as in away in the closet) several months ago and I can safely say that the quality of my life has improved greatly. I feel smarter not knowing all the stupid shit they want me to believe I need to  know about. It’s so repetitive and dull and aside from Sarah Silverman’s beautiful breasts, I mean eyes, I find watching TV on any kind of schedule to be the domain of the incredibly boring, and usually corpulent. You put 2 and 2 together and it does not add up to thin.

I’m going to go off on TV culture and addicts soon but I mainly wanted to draw the parallel to weight gain and heavy TV watching. They don’t say couch banana, they said couch potato, and they said it for a reason. When you sit around watching TV all the time you begin to take the shape of a Russet potato, and my friends, if you are looking for thinspiration I just don’t know what other motivation I can give beside the image of a lethargic, misshapen human sitting alone in the TV’s glow, eating brownies while watching a McDonald’s commercial about ice cream and rubbery meat. TV is Death Culture’s version of Twitter, soooo not conducive to losing weight and in my humble opinion it is to be avoided at all costs. Try it, I dare you. Most people are so conditioned to revere the TV that they can’t even conceive of turning it off for a week, but that’s middle America for you!

Let me recap. Never sit down if you can avoid it. Lay down only to sleep or get freaky, but that too can be done standing up and then it kind of becomes like dancing or a sexual performance art (thinning!!!). Beware of your relatives at the holidays. They want you fat so they don’t feel fat – Don’t give in to the urge to over indulge just because the shopping mall told you too. And lastly, do your body and your mind a favor and quit TV. I shit you not I have been living this lifestyle for some time now and I am back to a size 32 Levi, down from a 33. That’s not my disco pants size though, those are like a 30.

Be strong! Fight food! Remember, food is to be looked at with a steely and determined glaze in your eye. Sorry I said glaze. Food is primarily for babies and the elderly, because who cares if they are fat, right? We, however have more primordial concerns (like hooking it up in the disco, looking good at Emo’s, getting our own reality show etc.) so I wish every one luck in the face of the disgusting feasting adversity, and seriously, if you want to squash your hunger pangs just look around the table at the gluttony and gorging in effect. Drool and slime dripping off their faces as they stuff themselves with fat and lard and cake. Three words:

Gross. Fuck that.

Good luck in the coming days, that is if you are lucky or rich enough to participate. Look around in this season of “merryment” (yeah right, that is if you are not sick, lonely, broke, etc.) and think about what I have said. Ask yourself how many stupid conversations revolve around Geraldo Rivera and Oprah. Watch the culinary orgy unfold around you but know you are above it, you can overcome!!

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December 15, 2008

Haircut / Tough Girls

I know it’s been a while since I last blogged, I just haven’t been feeling very bloggy. I don’t feel bloggy now, either. I’m doing this out of some sense of obligation… Just as some are compelled to drink, I am compelled to blog. And drink, so here we go.

So what’s new. I’m getting my hair cut. I know, I know, it’s just getting glorious. I’ve achieved a sort of late 70’s David Lee Roth look which is at times pretty awesome. The rest of the time it sucks. I have no peripheral vision, It takes forever to dry which in turn makes me wash it less resulting in more of a stringy Kurt Cobain kind of vibe. Not cool! I have always had an aversion to getting my hair professionally cut, ever since I was a kid. I am intrinsically defiant so just feeling pressured  or obligated to do it would piss me right off. There was even a time when I said fuck it completely and let my hair grow into dreads. At this point I am so annoyed by my long hair that I am tempted to get dreads again, even though I am opposed to Rastafarian religious beliefs. I do however sympathize with some of their social and cultural views (not the gay hating ones) and whether we like it or not I am, deep inside, a natty, Congo bongo I dread straight from Yard. If you don’t know what that means there are plenty of Patois guides on the Internet that you can refer to. Or should I say “reefer” to… Sorry. Oh OK, it means that deep inside I am a dread locked rasta who in essence is the spirit of an African drum and I want to beat down Babylon and roam the open country with no police, curfews, or 3 am road blocks, and I am from Jamaica. Seen? I am actually from Ireland, which not unlike Jamaica is a small island with a tumultuous political past and we island people just sort of relate to each other. It’s the same with Bermudians, I feel like I know them.

But I digress… No I will not grow dreads again, although I feel like it. I’m going to have a “consultation” with a “stylist” and I will explain to her (I hope it’s a her) that I am incredibly low maintenance (lazy) when it comes to things like hair yet I want to look somewhat cool. I deferred to a friend of mine about what I should do, I asked her if I should go for 80’s skateboarder hair or 70’s surfer guy hair. She simply replied “Gross”. I found that confusing because I thought everyone loved surfer hair. I will not get any type of cut that involves having to use gel. There will be no defying of gravity when it comes to my head. No faux-hawks, no buzz cuts, nothing metro sexual. I want a straight up dude hairstyle that matches my Chuck Taylor’s and Levi’s. What will happen? I’m nervous… Not to mention I have a couple of big DJ gigs coming up soon and I don’t want to look like a jerk with a shitty hair cut, now do I?

In regards to affairs of the heart (because I know that’s what you really like reading about) I am still pining for the far away girl with black hair who doesn’t even call me anymore. It’s OK though, because I have been able to double up, actually triple up on the pining because there have been a few other distractions lately… A few very pretty distractions of the bad ass tattooed variety. One of the girls I’m secretly crushing on right now used to hate me, but a failed attempt at living in NYC seems to have humbled her formerly charged and anti-me disposition. I have only seen her once since she came back and she was sporting a real “fuck you mom and dad” type tattoo. A good sign, because I am the ultimate “fuck you mom and dad” type of guy to bring home. You see, women love pissing off their parents. When, as a guy, one realizes this simple truth, the path to a decent left behind thong collection becomes more clear. The only catch with her though, is that I have not seen her drunk yet. That was part of the problem in the past, and I wonder if cold, hard New York City kicked the nasty drunk out of her too… I’ll let you know if/when I find out. She’s fucking cute!!

The other girl… This one is good too because yet again I am able to apply my uncanny intuition and insight into female psychology and behavior. As some may know, I have a certain thing for strong women. I mean physically strong women. Like Zena Warrior Princess mixed up with some Robert Crumb style fetishism if you know of what I speak…

So I dig tough chicks with muscles, tattoos, bad attitudes and pretty faces. Can you blame me? Here’s the thing though, I am so not a submissive. I never really understood why I was so attracted to these bad girls that are stereotypically considered man eating, dominatrix type ball breakers. I don’t want to call anyone “Mistress” or act like a dog or anything, although I might indulge in some low level toe licking if it comes up. I one time had a woman command me to get on my knees (it seemed that she thought I wanted to be dominated or something) and I was like, “Fuck off”. Anyway, where am I going with this? Let me get back on track…

So, I like tough, bad ass bitches but I am not submissive is the conclusion I came to. It seemed like a difficult situation to rectify, in terms of some serious making out. But then, like a lighting strike something occurred to me while having a phone conversation with such a woman as I have described. She’s a friend and we have worked together in the past. She’s about 6 feet in heels and sports a pair of mega guns (biceps) and could easily crush a human scull with her thighs. She has a chest tattoo and a few others… She’s a real live roller queen who takes no shit from anyone, ever. She is also very funny and ultimately a sweet heart, in the way some pit bulls can be funny sweet hearts.

So we were talking about some of her friends relationships and it dawned on me that just because a woman is tough does not immediately make her a natural dominant. In fact, many of these tough women are secretly lusting to be dominated, to submit. I’m talking sex here, not simple mind games, although that’s part of it. I nearly hit my head on the ceiling when I realized that I wanted to be the dominant one! Now don’t get me wrong, I know for a fact that some of those women seriously get a thrill out of beating the shit out of some wimpy guy while wearing stilettos, and I’m not suggesting that women are naturally more submissive than men. This is really more a comment about my own sexual psychology than theirs.

It’s very similar to the old stereotype of men, rich macho business men in positions of power and great authority, that these are the type of men who want the services of a Dominatrix. Could it be similar with the tough chicks? At the end of the day I think a lot of women really do like to feel pretty, beautiful, soft, good smelling. Not all, obviously, but what I discovered is that just because she’s hell on wheels and a muscular punk rock bruiser doesn’t mean that she doesn’t crave to be, how can I say this politely… Taken.

Here’s where it gets good… Based on my revelation that I was inherently not submissive, possibly kind of the opposite, and that many tough chicks are actually pussy cats, and given that I am attracted to tough chicks, I decided to put an experiment into action.

I was loft sitting in San Antonio last week and decided to invite my pretty, tattooed friend out for a night of downtown SA fun. I live in Austin but I fucking love San Antonio, especially downtown. She was up for it and we made plans for her to come over and hang out. FYI, I will not talk about actual sex here, just psychology. A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell and I abide by that rule, most of the time, but don’t worry it’s still pretty juicy… I had cleverly stocked up on beer and hard liquor at the place, and I knew we would at some point hit up my favorite bar in SA, Logan’s, where many a wine skin is drained and the music has cojones. Basically my strategy was  to get her wasted, or somewhere in the vicinity of wasted. That’s logical and pretty much step 1 on any date. I knew she had been stressed out at work and needed some distraction so the night  would be easy, fun, and hopefully get a bit kinky at some point.

Long story short, we had a great night. Note to guys – It’s not easy getting a roller girl drunk, pace yourself, trust me on this one. So while there was no leather mask, whips or verbal abuse I can safely say that with some gentle yet firm direction I saw a different side to my, for all intensive purposes, terrifying yet very atractive female friend. Everyone knows that she is hot, but I’m here to tell you she is beautiful and has a warm soft voice that is obviously useless at derby practice or while trying to score drinks at Jackalope. I don’t want to imply that there was some big porno sex scene because there wasn’t. Well not exactly, but again my lips are sealed. In my one concession to something close to submission, I asked her (told her) to flex for me. She did. Insert cartoon “Boing!” sound effect here.

There you have it. In summary, ladies, don’t be afraid to be tough! Some of us bros love it!! Also, guys, just because she’s tough doesn’t mean that she doesn’t want you to take charge and put the smack down on that ass, Mexican wrestler style. Also guys, I urge caution if you choose to experiment with this like I did – you can and probably will get seriously hurt, so take it easy and have an escape route planned. This is not a joke, do not fuck around with tough chicks, especially roller girls because they will kill you and have their friends help them cover up the murder. This shit is real!  All too real, but kind of awesome and sexy and I’m here to tell you that with a little effort and a lot of booze it is very possible to have your Zena cake and eat it too.

* This post highly influenced by the song “Roller Queen” by the Lifters. They fucking rock right out of south Austin Texas.. You can find them on myspace here:

http://www.myspace.com/thelifters

And as always, much respect to:

www.TXRD.com

December 5, 2008

What’s it like to be a poet?

Filed under: Poetry — daz76 @ 6:25 am
Tags: ,

Some people often ask me, “What’s it like being a poet?” and I never realy know what to say, because it is such a weird thing to talk about. Being a poet, that is. I’m a self proclaimed poet, no one ever ordained me as such. In my mind the fact that for whatever fucked up reason I see myself as a poet is what is the real credential to being a poet. That or a degree in poetry, I guess… Also, I actually, on a somewhat regular basis write and publish my own poems. Done deal as far as I’m concerned.

To once and for all answer the question, “What’s it like being a poet?” I have to reply first and foremost that it’s kind of a burden. It’s not a burden like having to plow the field, it just takes up a lot of space in my mind. And it sucks trying to remember everything when you can’t write down notes, like in the car.  Speaking of, there is a reason I write this now. I wrote my first poem tonight while sitting alone drinking in a bar.

It’s the poem below. I went downtown to see a band with this hot tattooed chick who plays bass but I was late and it was $10. Stubb’s inside is not my favorite place to see bands anyway so I bailed and was going to go home or meet up with a roller derby girl I know, but for some reason I just wanted to have a beer at Lovejoy’s. This is not about Lovejoy’s so I will spare the description and simply say really awesome divey punk rock pool hall. I was just sitting alone at the bar drinking a Guinness (very good) and soaking up the atmosphere. Had a nice chat with a guy named Mark from Creekside Lounge. We talked about DJ stuff and eventually he went back to work.

I was there on the early side and things were just getting going, it was at that point where there were enough bodies in the room so that the cold draft didn’t make it to where I was, at the bar, every time the door opened. I only had two beers but I took so much in as I sat there. The atmosphere and diversity of people, all unified by some kind of love for rock and drinking. And the girls. Here is the whole poet thing in a nutshell: I could go on for paragraphs describing everything I remember and make you bored as shit while doing it probably. Instead I will refer you again to the poem below. At least for me, what I do, is about economy of words and putting across a clear idea.

Whatevs, the important thing here is that I have entered a new echelon of being a poet as I have now composed in  a bar. It was great! It felt totally natural and I plan on writing a poem at a bar whenever I go out from now on.

Check it out, I dabble in many mediums from drawing to video art and those are all child’s play in comparison to writing poetry. Poetry is the one form of art that completely eludes McLuhan’s proclamation, “The medium is the message”. In poetry no, Marshall, the message is the message. Sure there’s verbose incomprehensible mind fuck poetry too and that shit is great, but if you really want to know what it’s like to be a poet just try it. When you feel certain that in your attempts at poetry you have pissed off or annoyed an academic type you are on the right path. It’s like graffiti. People don’t just write graffiti to get famous, a big part of it is pissing off the yuppies. Same with poetry.

I know that isn’t exactly the answer to the question, “What’s it like to be…” and I go back to my original answer, it’s a burden. It’s a burden because somebody has to do it (no, for real, somebody has to do it), and for whatever reason I took the fucking job. So here we are.

The Girls at Lovejoy’s

Filed under: Poetry — daz76 @ 5:07 am
Tags: , , , , ,

Latin girl with the ring in your nose
How the fuck did you get so cute?
Skinny girl with a skull on her throat
Flaming red hair
Rough girl with scabs on her fingers
From fighting I hope
Probably from falling down drunk
Still hot
And you, with your black short hair
Wearing an art apron
Your armpits smell as you come closer
I’m not offended because it’s good
All these girls are at Lovejoy’s
With me
Tonight

December 3, 2008

DJ update 3

Filed under: As a DJ — daz76 @ 2:49 am
Tags: , ,

OK, so no word from my new friend the DJ booking agent. I’ll call her tomorrow to see what’s up. I’m not going to lie, I feel pretty disheartened about this whole DJ thing in Austin. I’m seriously not sure what the fuck to do… I do have an option that I could go with, it’s an option I’ve had for a few years now and for whatever reason (actually I know exactly the reason…) I have not attempted to give it a shot with this certain connection. It’s been on my mind, I might have to do it.

Completely randomly I contacted an old friend in Mexico (I used to live in Mexico) because I am going to Cancun/Tulum for a week at the end of the month. I thought I’d send an email seeing what’s up with him for the holidays. I remember that he would often go to Cancun with his wife in the winter and I thought he might have some insight into the area. This is a guy I used to DJ with in Guanajuato, he had a tiny little “electro pulque lounge” and we would play house and techno all night or until the cops showed up. Then we would go to the Cucaracha and get wasted. Anyway, he hit me back and said that not only would they be in Cancun, but there is going to be an all night party on the beach in Tulum and he told me to bring some records.

DJ gig on the beach in Tulum. No money, not a professional gig, but in some way it restores my faith in DJ humanity. The closest thing to that type of gig I’ve ever played was some outdoor stuff in San Miguel, but they were more like big private parties in someones back yard. I’ve been told to expect a large, mostly naked euro contingency and I think I know exactly what selections I will bring. Let me put it this way, the ambient shit is staying home! So some modicum of success on the DJ front. It’s far from home, for free, but I will see an old friend and get to stay up all night while the beats pound, just like we used to do a few years ago. I’m really looking forward to it., it will be a fun diversion, but that’s all it is, a diversion. Who the fuck knows, maybe I will love it so much I will move back to Mexico, the coast this time. I always wanted to live near the water and Babylon really does get me down… I’m dreaming.

So reality strikes again tomorrow as I grovel before the Austin club professionals, attempting to find favor in this very fickle city. When we talked yesterday she did ask me if I would come out and check the club on Wednesday, so I guess I will be doing that. Trying to be a DJ in Austin is really stupid, and hard!

I’ll report back on my progress and any tips on the Yucatan would be welcome.

December 2, 2008

DJ update 2

Filed under: As a DJ,Comedy — daz76 @ 6:08 am
Tags: , ,

I talked again today with the DJ booking lady at the office I visited recently with a DJ mix on CD. We didn’t stay on the phone long, and there were some very positive aspects to the conversation, including the fact that they are creating some new nights and they want more dance music, not just the top 40/ hip hop mix that’s so prominent here in Austin. She told me that the other night one of her DJs was late (!) so she put on my mix to check it out on the club system. she assured me that she thought it was a good mix, but she said it was too mellow. Holy shit! I can’t get a break! I intentionally try to tone my sound down, because I’m thinking that’s the safe move, and now they want it more pounding. I’m pretty sure I hit it home that I could easily go more pounding if that’s what they wanted. I apologetically mentioned that I had included Latin elements in my mix because I thought it would be funky, she replied, “I love Latin”. I’m so confused…

I’m pretty sure I’ve made an impression on this booking agent, but I know she’s thinking about the cash register chi-chinging behind the bar on a Tuesday night. Sometimes you just have to go with the hip hop if that’s what the people want. I always think that the people just want it to be good, not annoying, and as long as the ladies are grooving my job is done. I think that often times a minority of loud, obnoxious know it all club vultures are so pathetic that if they feel in any way unsure of who or what is going on they spoil things for other party people who might just be up for something a little more cutting edge. I don’t know, because I’m not a clubber myself and never really have associated myself as one. I like all kinds of music and house is just the most fun to mix. At home I’m listening to ancient reggae, Pink Floyd or Nico. Or working on my own tracks. Or it’s quiet, like it is now.

I’m going to record a new mix in the next few days. I set up the turntables a while ago for that reason and didn’t do it. I’m shooting for a “hard commercial club” sound, but obviously I’ll bring my underground touch. I wonder if I can post it here?? I’m sure there will be some sort of update soon on my progress becoming a professional DJ, good or bad I can’t say right now, but I’m on it.

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